


Bye, Bye Birdie

by ADFitch



Category: The Clash
Genre: F/M, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-02-28 01:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13260807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADFitch/pseuds/ADFitch
Summary: Birdie was ok with staying in the background. She was ok with being a mother hen, and she was ok with not really finding love. But when she meets one of her friend Mick's band members, she starts to feel things she didn't  know she could, and begins finding her voice more and more. But by gaining herself, will she lose her heart to the one who helped her find it?A Paul Simonon fanfiction love story





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: One flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

Scarlet watched in amusement as her friend and his band mates began another hand of pool. She took a swig from her mug of beer, and idly tapped her fingers on the table. She wasn’t as good at the game as they were. They liked to joke that she was too short to reach the table proper. “They” being her two, and honestly only, best mates Robin Crocker, and Mick Jones. A few years older than her, she had been tagging behind them since she was 10. At first, she was sure they resented it, but after a while it was the three of them, inseparable and mean. Well, they were at least. Scarlet, or Birdie as she was better known as, found it hard to be mean. In addition to not being very physically imposing, she was just too softhearted and unsure of herself to stand much ground. Instead, she relied on Mick and Crocker to take care of her, and in turn she played second mom to them. A bit of a mother hen, she had nagged them both about schoolwork and staying out of trouble, to which neither one had minded her. They had both dropped out of school as soon as possible. Mick, with his dreams of becoming a rock star differing dramatically from hooligan Crocker. Birdie felt a stab of sadness in her heart. Crocker was currently in jail due to a robbery bout. After losing another hand, Mick flounced in the stool next to her, and stole a swig out of her beer. Pushing his curly bangs out of his eyes, he scanned the room impatiently.  
“Relax, Mick. I’m sure he’ll be here soon”, Birdie said rubbing his arm.  
They were at a hole in the wall pub waiting for one of the auditions for Mick’s band, the London SS. Looking to take off in the music business, Mick’s band and their manager were scouring all over for singers.  
“Well, we don’t got all day, now do we?” he snapped back.  
Biting back the comment that he did indeed have all day, Birdie just gave a sympathetic nod. She took a quick look at her watch. She hoped whoever this guy was he’d show up soon. She had to start heading to work herself. She worked at a pub as a waitress. Not exactly an inspiring job, she just took it on until she could figure out what she wanted to do, and the tips didn’t exactly hurt, even if they did come from dirty men. Suddenly, Mick perked up.  
“There they are!” he yelled, gesturing towards the entrance of the bar. Their manager Bernie Rhodes was being followed by a stranger. As he came closer, Birdie let out a small gasp. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. He was tall, and lean with lithe muscles, and long legs. He had thick blonde hair that shot in short spikes all over his head. His cheekbones were high and sharp. As they drew closer, Birdie could see his eyes were a penetrating blue. With a heavy brow, and a full downturned mouth, he was everything a mother ever warned her daughter about. He was a 3 am rendezvous, and every dark, dirty, sexual thought she ever had. Birdie chimed back into reality just in time to realize Mick was making introductions. When he finally introduced her, and the stranger turned his eyes to her, she realized she had a mouth open and had scooted her stool closer behind Mick for protection. They all looked at her, waiting for her to respond with a hello or a nod. Instead she just shouted “BATHROOM!” and hopped of her stool. Making a bee line for the bathroom, she could hear Mick begin to comment on her behavior. She knew it was rude, but she didn’t care. She had never felt like this before. Her face was burning, her heart was thumping, and her palms were so sweaty she almost couldn’t open the bathroom door. Locking it behind her, she made her way to the cracked and scuffed sink as quick as her lead feet could carry her. She fumbled on the cold and splashed her face. After drying it off with a rough paper towel, she leaned her head against the cold metal of the stall door. What in the bloody hell was wrong with her? He was just a man. So what if he was the most gorgeous, delectable treat she had ever seen? So what if she wasn’t able to breathe just thinking about him? She couldn’t spend the rest of her life in a bathroom, could she? Contemplating it way longer than she should, she finally took a deep breath in and opening the door. Taking her seat back on the stool, she saw that Mick and his audition were over in the corner with their equipment discussing music. Bernie was still seated as the table. When she fumbled in the stool next to him, he gave her a raised eyebrow glance which she ignored.  
“What’s his name?” she asked, hoping to change the subject from her awkwardness.  
“Paul. Paul Simonon,” Bernie responding. He noticed that Birdie’s face seemed flushed, and her eyes were glassy. He leaned over and felt her forehead. Birdie shook him off. She didn’t really talk much to Bernie, mainly because she wasn’t in the music details, so she was uncomfortable with him touching her. Truth be told, she wasn’t used to much physical contact aside from Mick and Crocker. Birdie was an orphan, and the strict orphanage she spent her life in didn’t exactly dole out love and support. More like bruised knuckles, and sore bottoms.  
“Are you ok there Birdie?” he asked, trying to mask the tiny bit of hurt in his voice. He always thought Birdie was kind of sweet and cute, so he couldn’t help but feel worried about her. Realizing she had smarted his pride a little, Birdie reached out and squeezed his wrist.  
“I’m ok, don’t worry”. Looking as if he didn’t believe her, Bernie let it go, and headed over to the band.

 

Paul could feel the girl’s eyes on him, but every time he looked up, she appeared to be studying her beer. Mick had introduced her as Birdie, and appearance wise it added up. She was small and short, almost child sized. She had café au lait skin, which was flushed as if she had a fever. With thick curly dark hair swept into a bun, he could see the faint streaks of pink throughout it. She had large dark eyes that stared at him with something like fear and confusion. He hadn’t gotten too good of a look to decide her looks before she shouted the word “bathroom” at them, and taken off in a scurry. Mick had looked after her in confusion.  
“That’s not like her. She usually doesn’t shut up,” he had said in ways of an apology. Shrugging his shoulders, he had launched back into the discussion of music. Now thirty minutes later, Paul was craving a cigarette and could tell this music wasn’t his cup of tea. It was much too, well he couldn’t place his finger on it, but it wasn’t the way he wanted to go. Still, he stuck it out. If anything, it was something to pass the time, and Mick was a fine sort anyway. He didn’t plan on following through with it though. After another 30 minutes, he could tell that Mick felt the same way. He wasn’t saying it outright, but with his lack of ability to play an instrument, and such, it wasn’t going to work. So they parted way after another thirty minutes. Paul shot one more glance at the girl as he made his goodbyes, but she refused to look at him, instead just nodding her head. With a raise of his eyebrow, Paul made his way out of the pub.  
Birdie watched Paul leave the pub, and felt her heartbeat slowly return to its normal speed. Twisting a stray strand of hair around her finger, she asked Mick how the tryout had gone.  
“He’s not a match, m’fraid” he said. “Still on the lookout.”  
Birdie made a comforting comment, and joined Mick outside for a cigarette. Brightening back up to her normal chatty self, Birdie tried hard to ignore the pang of disappointment in her heart, and the empty feeling in her stomach.


	2. Chapter @

Birdie folded up the last bit of her laundry, and put it away. She hated laundry days, but thankfully she had a laundry mat right around the corner from her. She always had the option of doing it at Mick’s grandmother’s place, but she didn’t like to impose. Plus, it wasn’t a quick block away, and she didn’t fancy the idea of carrying her undergarments on the Underground. It had been about a month since Mick’s hunt for a band member, and he had been feeling a bit discouraged. He had audition after audition, but no one had seemed to stick the way he wanted them to. A picky person, Mick always managed to find some type of flaw in their performance, rather it be their singing pitch, or the way they held their instrument. To make matters worse for Birdie, he always came back to that Paul, lamenting how he hadn’t called him back, or tried to work him in. Every time he went on this route, she tried to steer the topic somewhere else. She didn’t think her body could take another encounter with him, though she caught herself looking to see if she would accidentally cross paths with him, or see him among a crowd at her job. So far, it hadn’t been a hit. She tried to convince herself it was for the best, but it still left her feeling a little gloomy. She turned on her T.V. for the noise as she made her way into the kitchen. Looking through her next to empty fridge, she managed to find a half-eaten carton of takeout. Grabbing that, and a beer, she prepared herself for a quiet night at home. Just then she heard frantic pounding on the door of her flat, along with the buzzer being rang. “Birdie! Birdie open up, it’s me Mick! Birdie, Hurry up!”  
Letting out a sigh at the end of her solitude, she put her food and drink down to flip the locks off the door for Mick. He barreled in, bringing the cold and rain of February with him. Slamming the door behind him, he grabbed Birdie by her hands, and danced her around the kitchen and to her living room, laughing. After twirling her around one more time, he collapsed on her couch with a sigh of happiness. Birdie stood, trying to catch her breath. Instead, she kept bubbling up with laughter at Mick. His wet hair was everywhere, and he had such a look of happiness on his face, that he looked 3 sheets to the wind.  
“I take it you enjoyed that concert, then?” she asked.  
Mick had plans to go see a band that night named the Sex Pistols. Already friends with some of the members, Bernie wanted to introduce Mick to their music.  
“It was amazing Birdie. It was a whole ‘nother path. We’re going to change it. Me and Bernie sat down, and we’re going to get a whole new band together.”  
Birdie flopped down on the couch, and gave Mick a big hug. It was one of things she loved about him; he never let something keep him away from his music. If it wasn’t working, he kept going.  
“Are you going to do a whole new band too?” she asked.  
“Yeah, but we’re gonna’ give some of those old auditions a call back. Bernie thinks we should give that Paul lad a call, you know? Teach him how to play, or- Birdie are you ok?” Mick changed his sentence mid-way through when he caught site of Birdie’s face.  
At the mention of bringing Paul back, all the color had drained out of Birdie’s face. Mick cupped his hand on her shoulder, and stared at her, concern all over his face. Even in her current state, Birdie felt a wave of tenderness for him. Here he was mid-sentence about his new band idea, and he was still so worried about her. She plastered on a smile, and could tell by the dubious look on his face he wasn’t buying it.  
“I’m fine. I promise. Just, just getting a chill from the open window.”  
Mick looked around in confusion. Birdie’s living room only had 2 windows, and both were firmly closed. He got up and went to her bedroom to grab a discarded sweater or something to keep her warm. Draping it over her shoulders, he noted that her color was coming back in bits.  
“Don’t fuss over me, Mick. I’m ok, promise.”  
In truth, Birdie felt too hot with the sweater over her shoulders, but she wasn’t about to shake it off. Not after her open window lie. After casting one more concerned look, Mick launched back into his excited tale of ringing up Paul, and teaching him an instrument or something. Birdie made sure she injected where she needed to, and showed her excitement for Mick’s dreams, but she felt conflicted inside. She was excited to get to see Paul again, but she was also confused and a little worried about these feelings. She had crushes before sure, and the occasional boyfriend. But when she thought back on them, they didn’t make her feel like her stomach was bottoming out. “I’m sure I’m just making it bigger than it is. It was kinda’ dark in the pub, and it’s been so long I’ve just built him up in my head”, she thought. Hoping fervently she was right, she retrieved her takeout and another fork to share with Mick. 

Birdie paced back and forth in her living room. For the fifth time, she checked the fridge for stocked beer, the pantry for crisps, and sweets, and the living room for any loose strings or mussed spots. Deciding that they should talk about their line up, and their hunt for a new singer and drummer, Mick had begged Birdie to let them use her flat for a meeting grounds, especially since Bernie had already came up with a few ideas. Reluctantly, she had agreed. Mick had a tendency to take her yes’s for granted, and proved this to be such when he told her that he had already set up a meeting.  
Smoothing her clothing down, she tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. She decided maybe some fresh air would help, and opened the sliding door. Her favorite feature in her flat, it led out to the balcony. It was a bit on the small side, but it was her favorite thinking spot, and she often came out with a cup of tea and book, or her writing journal. She breathed the afternoon air in deeply. It was getting chilly, but at least it was finally dry after a gloomy, overcast day. From her spot, she could see Mick approaching with his band. She quickly went back inside, and closed the door behind her.  
“Ok, ok, ok, ok,” she chanted under her breath. “I can do this. It’s just a man.”  
As if on cue, Mick’s knock, and muffled voices were heard behind the door. Birdie waited a few seconds before answering the door, not wanting to seem too desperate. Opening the door, she was met with Mick’s wide grin, as he gave her a quick hug, and rustled past her to let everyone else file in. Birdie purposely kept her head down as she nodded at everyone. Mick, knowing how Birdie liked to be a good host, immediately went to the fridge to pull out a few beers. Birdie took all the company in, Bernie, their latest guitarist Kevin, and him. Well, not for the first time Birdie admitted she was wrong. He was even more gorgeous this go round than when she saw him the first time. Clad in dark denim jeans and boots, he had a leather jacket on, and a cigarette tucked behind one ear. He looked at her, and she managed a quick wide eyed nod before she had to look away. She went to the kitchen to grab herself a beer, and turning her back on their meeting, cracked it open and chugged it. She heard Mick’s snort, but she refused to turn around to acknowledge it. She threw the can out as the guys dived into business. Trying to find something to do with her hands, and avoid staring too much at Paul, she pulled out all the snacks, and lined them up on the counter. Christ, what did Mick expect her to do this whole time, play maid in her own flat? Grabbing another can of liquid courage, she finally decided to plop a seat down next to Mick on her couch. Besides the couch, there were only 2 other small, shabby recliners, so Paul was forced to sit on the floor. His long legs were folded up, and with his hands draped over his knees, she could see how long and thin his fingers were. Suddenly, she vividly pictured his wide palms cupping her breasts. Standing up quickly, she told Mick she was going to take a moment out on the balcony. 

Paul watched Mick’s friend Birdie make her way out through the sliding door to the balcony. He had to admit she had a nice figure for someone so small. Wearing high waist black jeans so tight they clung to her gentle hips, and round rear end, she had on a bright blue, ratty sweater and her hair pulled back in a braid. When she had finally looked directly at him, (something that seemed to have caused her physical pain, he noted) he saw that she had wide set dark eyes, and sooty lashes. Her Cupid’s bow lips seemed to have been stained with something red. Paul didn’t remember her being so, well cute. She looked out of place amongst their gruff figures, and so innocent. He scoffed, mentally. Anyone who was friends with Mick Jones was probably a little more wild than not. Still, he couldn’t shake the innate primal sense of wanting to protect her. “And something else”, a sly voice whispered in his mind.  
Paul shot that thought down. Best not to mix business with pleasure. Besides if the looks Mick was shooting his way as he watched her exit, she was already spoken for. Still, being friendly couldn’t hurt… Slinging back the rest of the beer in his hand, he waited until the conversation became more general, and excused himself to have a cigarette outside. Mick casted him a wary glance, but gave a nod. When he made his way outside on the balcony, he saw her leaning against the railing staring unseeingly in the distance. The wind was blowing stray tendrils of curls around her face, and the setting sun was bathing her in a golden light. Paul felt a stirring of arousal at the sight. “Cool it there, mate. You don’t even know her name” he thought.  
He walked up and looked out at the view of the courtyard on the other side of where she was standing. She jumped slightly at his approach, then when noticing who it was, quickly cast her eyes to the can in her hand, fiddling with it. Paul cleared his throat a little.  
“So… this flat is yours then?” he asked as a means for starting a conversation.  
“Ye-yeah. I own it. Which is why Mick is so ok with inviting everyone over,” she said in a wry tone.  
Paul smiled a little at her comment. “It’s a nice flat for someone so young. Are your parents ok with you living alone?”  
She smiled a little sadly at his comment. Taking a long pull at her drink, she set it down on the floor behind her, and stood back next to him.  
“I’m not that young, you know. I’m nineteen. As far as my parents… well I’m an orphan. So I’m sure they know I don’t got much of a choice in the matter.”  
Paul felt a stab of embarrassment. He hoped he hadn’t upset her in anyway. Before he could even apologize, she started talking again.  
“Don’t worry, its ok. I barely remember them, I was so young. Besides, Mick always says parents are overrated anyway.”  
Finding any opportunity to change the subject, he asked her about her relationship with Mick.  
“So you two are a thing, then?”  
She laughed at his question, and shot him a disbelieving look.  
“Oh! You were serious. No, no, not at all. Although he was my first kiss.” She started laughing again, and Paul realized he liked the sound. It was honest, and unforced. And even though she still seemed unable to look at him for periods of time, he felt it affecting him and smiled a little.  
“He only did it because I had a thing for Thomas Crout. Only I didn’t want to try and kiss him and be embarrassed. So after a month of me pestering him, he finally agreed. I thought he was going to die of mortification.” She laughed again then smiled, lost in thought.  
“How long have you known him? “ Paul asked.  
“Oh forever. Him and Crocker are my best mates. The orphanage I was at wasn’t far from their school. I think I was about 11, and they used to let all of us out to play around in yard. “  
Her voice had begun to grow a little softer, and Paul unconsciously moved closer in order to hear her better.  
“At the orphanage, I didn’t have much friends. I was shy, and so small. I was, well I was different” she said gesturing to her overall appearance.  
“No one looked like me, so I was alone. I, I used to get messed with a lot. That day, the kids were all taking turns mocking me and throwing dirt clods at me. One of them turned out to be a rock. I’m sure they didn’t know. I don’t think they would have thrown it if they did, but… it struck me in the temple. I came to to Mick holding me, and Crocker punching the lad who threw it in the face. They were on the way home from school when they saw it all happen. I still have a faint scar from it.”  
“They stayed with me until the headmistress kicked them out. After that, I would try and be outside when they were let out every day, and I used to follow them around, or pester them until they would just come and see me on free days. We’ve been thick as thieves since. I wonder though sometimes if I’m more of a pest to Mick than anything, you know? He tried to teach me music, but I’m no good. Plus I nag at him all the time. But I think he cares about me. I mean, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t right?” she asked, turning at looking at him fully.  
She let out a little “oh” when she realized how close he was to her, and her wide eyes swam with insecurity, and confusion. Paul felt like he was drowning in her eyes. He realized that he didn’t just thinks she was cute. He thought she was bloody beautiful. He wanted to reach out and cup her cheeks to discover if her skin was as soft as it looked, and nuzzle the slender column of her throat. He forced himself to take a step back. Here it was his first conversation with her, and he was already lusting after her like a randy school boy. What was wrong with him? When he stepped back, he thought he saw a look of disappointment in her eyes, but decided it was his own wants and the fading light playing tricks on him. Needing to do something with his hands, so he wasn’t tempted to grab her closer to him again, he grabbed the cigarette resting behind his ear, and lit it. After taking a drag, he impulsively handed it out to her, inviting her to share it with him. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached out and took it, their fingertips brushing slightly against each other. She looked at him again, but looked away so quickly he couldn’t read her expression. She handed the cigarette back to him, making sure their fingers didn’t touch this time. Feeling a stab on his pride, he tried to muster it down.  
“What’s your real name, then?” he asked. “Unless Birdie is short for something?”  
She gave a short chuckle. “No, it’s actually Scarlett. Scarlett Daniels. Crocker came up with Birdie. Said I chirp and hop all around like a little bird. Besides, Scarlett is rather dramatic, innit?”  
Paul shrugged. “You look like a Lettie to me.”  
“Oh come off it,” she said, with disbelief.  
“No, I’m serious. I think I’m gonna’ call you Lettie.”  
He couldn’t quite make out her face in the present dark, but he thought he saw her smile.  
“Fine, but I wouldn’t recommend doing it around Mick. He can get a bit jealous.”  
“I noticed” he said sarcastically. And to his delight, she let out another laugh. Finishing off the cigarette, he motioned for her to head inside in front of him, chosing not to analyze the cloud of happiness he felt.

Birdie couldn’t believe it as she made her way back inside. Not only had she managed a whole conversation with Paul without fainting, but she even shared a cigarette. Granted, she had shared cigarettes with people before… and she hadn’t looked at him for most of the conversation…. And it was mostly her rattling on about nothing… and she needed two beers in order to do it, but still! She was giving herself credit where it was due. When he had come up next to her on the balcony, it felt like her heart had leaped in her throat. His presence was so imposing, and consuming she felt like a little bug on the sidewalk. She didn’t know it was possible to feel so awkward and big and yet so small and nonexistent. She would have to make it a point to avoid touching him though. Merely brushing fingers had sent a fire straight to her core. Imagine if he ever did more to her! She tried to remind herself he probably didn’t think of her as more as a child; his comment about her being so young confirmed that. She didn’t want to embarrass herself, or make things awkward for Mick and his budding band. But when he gave her a new nickname, and said it in that deep voice of his, she felt like throwing herself at him, and making him repeat it over and over.  
Mick eyed her a little, his gaze questioning. She smiled at him in response. Ever so protective of her, he expected her to be around no one but himself or Crocker. It usually made her feel special, but at this moment it sent a jab of irritation through her. Couldn’t she enjoy the company of the most sexually appealing man she had met in a long time without his permission? However, she remembered her responses to mentions of Paul, and decided to cut him slack. She could hear Paul closing the door behind her, so she quickly moved out the way, lest he have to brush past her. Taking advantage, Mick grabbed her arm and pulled her aside.  
“You know I love you right Birdie?” he said sweetly.  
Birdie smiled. This meant he was about to ask her a favor he knew she would be reluctant and opposed to. Whenever he wanted something, Mick was as sweet as cream.  
“Michael Jones, what is it you want?” Birdie asked with mock seriousness.  
“Well, we decided to teach Paul how to play. We don’t got a spot quite yet, and since it’s only you here…. Well I was wondering if we could do some playing around here. Just give us both a key, and we’ll be here when you’re at work, and gone when you’re not. ‘Course if it ain’t ok with you, we’ll find a way.”  
Birdie sighed. He knew she wouldn’t deny him, and from the look of triumph on his face, he already knew her answer.  
“We’re going to have set some ground rules, Mr. Jones,” she tried to say sternly.  
In response, Mick gave her a big, wet kiss on her cheek, and hugged her so hard, her face was buried in his stomach. Letting her go, he danced over to Paul to share the good news. Heaving another sigh, Birdie grabbed a beer out of her fridge. Putting a brave face on, she decided to grab another one and took it over to Paul. Mick was distracted by a conversation with Bernie about their upcoming rehearsal sessions. Handing Paul on of the beers, she gestured towards Mick.  
“I’m sure he shared the good news with you?” she asked.  
Paul smiled, and her stomach flipped.  
“Yeah, looks like we’ll be seeing more of each other, Lettie. Cheers to that?” he said cracking his beer open and raising it in a toasting manner.  
Unable to help herself, Birdie stared at his blue eyes, and slowly did the same with her beer.  
“Cheers”, she said rather breathlessly, touching her can to his in a toast. He smiled at her one more time, then joined Mick and Bernie’s conversation.  
“I can get through this” she thought, sitting rather dejectedly on her couch.  
Glancing at the beer she needed for courage, she let out a loud puff of air, causing Kevin to shoot a glance her way. “I just hope my liver can.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
Paul followed Mick up the stairs to get to Birdie’s flat. With a grunt, he shrugged the sliding guitar strap up his shoulder. Mick’s brilliant idea was to take the stairs to Birdie’s 6th floor flat; he was too impatient and excited to get started practicing that he didn’t want to wait for the lift. When they got to the door, Mick set down the amp he was carrying, and fumbled around in his pocket for the spare key Birdie had gifted him while Paul caught his breath. With a smile of triumph, he opened the door. Shuffling in the dark, Mick flicked on the kitchen light illuminating the small space. Paul followed behind him, setting down the guitar, and after turning on the living room light, plopped down on the couch. The air held the lingering scent of cinnamon and vanilla. Curious where it was coming from, Paul noticed there were a couple covered pie tins and a note on the kitchen’s counter. On the stovetop was a tea kettle already prepped. Mick set his amp and guitar down by Paul, and snatched up the note. Reading it quickly, he smiled widely.  
“Birdie, you’re amazing”, he exclaimed.

He tossed the note back on the counter, and grabbed the foil off of both tins. One was a huge platter of cookies, and the other was shepherd’s pie. As if on cue, Paul felt his stomach let out a rumble. Mick shot a grin in his direction, and after setting the kettle and throwing the pie in the oven, made his way back over to Paul on the couch with the plate of cookies. Grabbing one, Mick all but crammed it in his mouth. Letting out a sigh of pleasure that sent chocolate shortbread crumbs shooting out, he lent his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. “Birdie is the best baker I know”.

Paul grabbed a cookie himself, and took a bite. He had to agree with Mick; they were amazing. Helping himself to another one, he leaned back on the couch like Mick did. They sat in comfortable silence til the kettle let out its shrill whistle. Jumping up, Mick went over to prepare the tea. Looking around again, Paul decided impulsively to give in to his desire to learn more about Birdie. Trying to keep his voice casual, he brought up Birdie’s living situation.  
“So what exactly does Birdie do for a living? She must do something pretty nice to keep such a nice flat.”  
Mick was still concentrating on juggling two cups, a hot kettle, and sugar to pay much attention to the line of Paul’s questioning.   
“Well she doesn’t pay for it yeah? Not with just a bartender job. Her parents do.”  
Paul was confused, and Mick making his way over, read it on his face and decided to clarify with a chuckle.

“I mean not exactly.” He set down the tea tray, and promptly begin loading his cup with sugar.

“When Birdie was about 1, she and her parents were in a car crash. They didn’t survive, obviously.”  
Paul let out a low sympathetic whistle. Mick nodded in agreement.  
“Yeah. It was shortly after that that she ended up at the orphanage. She only got scrapes and bruises, and says she doesn’t remember the car crash because she was so young, but I know she still gets nightmares about it”. Mick stared at his tea cup, stirring it thoughtfully. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he continued.  
“Anyway, the policeman on the scene found suitcases, and a box full of money. Besides their driving license, and Birdie’s birth record, there wasn’t much identification. Birdie said the policeman who first came on the scene set up an account for her with the money for when she was 16. I think there was talk of him adopting her, but he died on the job before he could.”  
Paul felt a jar of sadness for the little Birdie. To have a family ripped from her in such a short time must have been hard for a child growing up to bear. “Did anyone ever come forward looking for her or her parents?”

Mick shook his head slowly. “The idea is because it seems her father was from South Africa that their families didn’t approve of the relationship. And since they couldn’t find any family members, Birdie was put in an orphanage, and eventually they had too many other lost children, and she fell through the cracks of the system.”  
“She told me about how she met you and your friend at her orphanage.”  
Mick let out a rude snort. “I’m sure she told you the “Birdie” version of it.”  
Paul raised his eyebrow in a questioning manner. Mick suddenly peered suspiciously at Paul. Paul tried to keep his face as casually interested as possible. There was no telling if Mick would explain his answer due to how protective he was of Birdie. Finally, with a sigh he responded.  
“Well since she told you some of it, I might as well finish. I’m sure she made it seem like those kids were just taking the mickey outta’ her, but it was worse than that.” Mick once again frowned hard at his teacup, as if it was the culprit.

“They were calling her a mutt, Paul,” he said. Paul was flabbergasted. A disbelieving “why” was all he was able to get out.  
“Because she was different. That’s why. And it seemed like that orphanage bird encouraged it. When Crocker punched that kid for purposely throwing that rock at Birdie, all she did was fuss over him because his nose was broken. She barely took notice of poor Birdie”.  
“He did it on purpose?” Paul choked out. Mick nodded grimly.   
“Me and Crocker watched him find a rock. Birdie still has the scar right here”. Mick tapped his hairline right above his temple.   
“If we could have had our way, that bloke would have gotten more than just a broken nose.” Mick took a gulp of tea and grabbed another cookie.  
“But we’ve been there for her ever since.”  
Paul nodded absentmindedly as he picked up another cookie. He didn’t understand why Birdie would have played off the maliciousness of her time at the orphanage. Frankly, he couldn’t think of anyone who would come out of such a hostile situation, and have her sweet disposition. As if reading his mind, Mick chimed in.  
“I don’t understand how she is the way she is, but she’s always been like that since I’ve known her.” Mick smiled gently off into space as he pushed his curly bangs out of his face.  
“Birdie is the sweetest girl I know. She’s always so kind and willing to help. She’s insecure, and sometimes it gets her into trouble, but she never seems to get a chip on her shoulder, you know? She just keeps flashing that smile, and forcing you to eat”.  
Mick shook his head if to wake himself up. Throwing a grin in Paul’s direction, he got up and made his way to the kitchen.   
“How about that shepherd’s pie?” he said with excitement. 

Birdie used her forearm to push stray curls clinging to the sweat along her face. Letting out a sigh, she continued chopping up the carrots in preparation for the stew for tomorrow night’s dinner. Exhausted, she had finished her serving for the night, but since one of the cooks had called off, she volunteered to give a hand with the food prep. In reality, she knew she was avoiding going home. It was way past her quitting time of 10, but she knew Mick; he kept late hours and long nights. Knowing him, he hadn’t gotten over to her flat til 9. She pushed the carrots aside, and rolled her neck, trying to relive some of the pressure there.   
“Birdie! Wot are you still doing ‘ere?”  
Birdie looked up to see Garrett McKyler. The owner of The Drunken Mermaid, he was a bulldog of a man. With wide shoulders, and barrel sized arms, his gut hung over his pants. His nose, broken multiple times, set to the side and he was perpetually squinting through his wired rimmed glasses that seemed completely out of place on his smashed face. A gentle giant, he was especially protective of all of his female staff, and wasn’t above throwing out any ruffians.  
“I decided to stay and give you a hand with the end work”.  
Garrett let out a sigh. He appreciated Birdie’s dedication to her job, but he wished the girl would get herself some more mates, or even a boyfriend. He clamped a meaty paw on her small shoulder as gently as he could. Still, Birdie rocked a little against it.   
“Birdie”, he grumbled out. “Go home. You were off an hour ago. We’ll be right as rain for t’morrow”.  
Birdie knew better than to plead with Garrett to let her stay later. With a forced smile at his worried direction, she removed her apron, and gave her hands a quick wash. Grabbing her bag, she made her way out of the pub, waving goodbye to her remaining coworkers as they cleaned up for the night. Shooting a glance at the clock, Birdie noticed with alarm that it was already after midnight. Lucky for Birdie, The Drunken Mermaid was only a few blocks from her flat. The cool night breeze felt good on her heated face as she walked home, praying that Mick and the mysterious Paul were already gone for the night. In truth, her frizzy hair, and sweaty body didn’t lend to any romantic inclinations for Birdie. All she wanted was a hot bath and maybe a joint before bed.   
Waiting for the lift, she shifted on her tired feet. When she opened her door, she was immediately greeted by the sight of Mick sprawled out on her couch, snoring and Paul curled up in the recliner, long legs dangling off the side. The coffee table was covered with the empty tins of food she had left, and tea cups. Birdie stifled her sigh, and tiptoed past the sleeping figures, making sure not to trip over the guitars. She grabbed two spare blankets from her bedroom. Throwing on over Mick, she gently pushed back his hair and planted a kiss on his forehead. He snuggled deeper into the couch. She turned to throw the other blanket on Paul, and froze when his open eyes were staring at her. Caught like a deer in a headlight, Birdie just open mouth stared back. Paul raised a finger to his lips in a hushing gesture, and all Birdie could do was dumbly nod back. He pointed towards her balcony, and soundlessly got up and made his way there without waiting for Birdie to agree or follow. With a prick of irritation, she noticed that even upon waking with tousled hair, and half opened eyes, he looked delectable as ever. Painfully aware that she probably smelled of yeasty beer and cabbage, she left the other blanket by the couch and followed behind Paul. He was already lighting a cigarette when she made it out there. Unable to make out his face beyond the spark of the cigarette, she looked around for the torch lamp she kept out on the balcony. Flickering it on, she once again got caught off guard by Paul’s stare. 

“Late night?” he asked in a low sleep husky voice as he stretched. Birdie shivered, and it wasn’t because of the wind.  
“I could say the same for the two of you”. Paul smiled in response and took another drag from his cigarette before flinging it over the balcony, and sitting down on the ground by the lamp. Birdie followed suit, trying to quell the nervousness that squirmed in her stomach at such an intimate setting. Scrambling for a way to break the silence, she asked him about practice. Paul scrunched up his face in a frustrated look.  
“Well… I’m not very good at it” he confessed, running a hand through his hair.   
“Mick’s doing his best, but I just can’t seem to catch on. Maybe we’ll switch me over to bass.”  
Birdie felt a twinge of sympathy for Paul. She knew firsthand how frustrating it was trying to practice with Mick. He meant well, but for someone who guitar didn’t come naturally to, he could be a tyrant.  
“I’m sure you’ll figure out an instrument that works for you”, she said. “I have faith in you”.  
Paul’s expression was hard to read in the dim light, but he smiled a little at Birdie.  
“Thanks for the vote of confidence”.   
Birdie tucked a loose strand behind her ear, and noticed that Paul’s expression had turned to one of discomfort.  
“Mick told me about your days at the orphanage”.  
Birdie looked down quickly, shrugged. She would have to give Mick a right slap in the mouth for running off. He had no right. Birdie laid down on her back by the lantern, and stared up at the cloudy sky.   
“It’s true that it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine, but who’s life is?”  
“Not many people get rocks thrown at their face, Lettie”, he responded with sarcasm. “And I have a feeling there were more things that Mick doesn’t know about.”  
Birdie unintentionally let out a gasp and sat up, looking hard at Paul with pleading eyes.  
“Please don’t put that idea in his head,” she practically begged. “He’ll probably try and hunt them all down.”  
Paul just raised an eyebrow as he stared at Birdie, and she felt another fissure of awareness of how attractive she found him. She looked away, feeling her face flush. Once again, she felt grubby from work, and wished desperately she could shower and at least comb her hair. With a sigh, she turned to face him.  
“If I tell you something, you promise to keep it to yourself? Mick doesn’t know, and with him being so protective of me… Well he’d baby me for a week”.  
At Paul’s silent nod, Birdie laid back down again using her bun as a pillow. Closing her eyes, she started talking.  
“When I was found by the policemen after the crash, I made it out to Mick that I didn’t have anything besides the found money and luggage. But that wasn’t true. My parents had given me a stuffie too”. Birdie’s voice grew sad with the memory, but she wasn’t aware of it.   
“He was wonderful. Big and brown, he had a bright red ribbon around his neck, and smelled of chocolates. I carried that bear everywhere with me. He was probably my best mate, truthfully. I told him all my secrets and held him close anytime I was scared or if the kids were, were messin’ on me too much.”  
“What happened to him?” Paul asked softly.  
Birdie felt herself start to tear up. Sitting up, she drew her knees up and laid her head on them. Giving herself a second to calm down, she continued.  
“He went missing one morning when I woke up. Turns out a few of the other kids decided the dogs down the street needed a new chew toy”.  
Birdie once again felt herself begin to tear up. She didn’t try to fight it this time as she remembered seeing all the stuffing strewn about in the yard, and the laughing of the children. She hadn’t eaten for 2 whole days after the incident, and spent more time crying than not.  
“It was like the only remaining link between me and my parents was gone.”  
Birdie quickly brushed her eyes, and tried to pin a smile on her face, but it wasn’t working.   
“It wasn’t all bad, I swear.” Paul kept quiet, but he face held a dubious expression. For some reason the thought of him pitying her made Birdie feel even more foolish. Trying hard to convince him, she rambled on.  
“Most of the time, they ignored me. And it was there that I discovered my love of baking and cooking. I used to sneak down to cook’s kitchen and watch her all the time. She used to sneak me tarts before dinner all the time. She was my only friend really.” Birdie smiled at the memory.  
She shifted her gaze towards Paul to see if he believed her. He wasn’t even looking at her however. Staring intently into the lamp, he seemed to be away in a world of his own. Unthinking, Birdie reached out and waved her hand in front of his face to get his attention. Quick as lightening, Paul grabbed her hand with his to stop the movement. Birdie froze and stared at him wide eyed, making no move to get her hand back. Bringing her hand slowly down towards his lap, he still made no effort to look at her. Instead, he rubbed her palm lightly with his calloused fingers. Birdie felt like her heart was in her throat. It seemed like she couldn’t hear anything beyond the blood rushing in her eyes. Paul finally looked at her, and released her hand. Birdie knew she should remove it from his hand, but she felt like she was frozen. Forcing herself to react, she pulled her hand back towards her, and rubbed it over where he had in an attempt to regain the warmth his fingers had given her. She cleared her throat, and was unsure of what to do next. Paul abruptly stood up, and Birdie stood up as well. Making his way back to the balcony he leaned over it, and stared at the courtyard.   
“I won’t tell Mick” he said.   
“Thank you”, Birdie said softly. She shifted on her feet, still uncertain. She felt like she had missed something, but wasn’t sure what. Did she upset him somehow? She wanted to groan out load in frustration. This wasn’t her first crush. So why was she so unsure of how to proceed with this? She knew she was over thinking it, but couldn’t stop herself. Paul turned back from the balcony and came back towards her. She raised her head up in order to look him in his face. He was so much taller than her, and yet again, she felt small and childlike next to him.   
“Thanks for sharing with me, Lettie”, he said in a quiet husky voice.  
His close proximity and gruff voice were beginning to wreak havoc on Birdie’s senses. Fighting the urge to all but wrap herself around him, she nodded quietly. Paul waited for a moment before speaking again in the same low voice.  
“Me and Mick should be around tomorrow if you’re ok with it. I’ll head home now, then. Thanks again.”  
Paul walked back inside, but Birdie stayed on the balcony. She stayed out there until she heard the door close. Resisting the urge to try and see him walk from the top of her balcony, she went inside, and after checking on the still snoring Mick, took a hot bath like she had planned. Lying in bed in nothing but her towel, Birdie still felt confused. Finally, after tossing and turning, she was able to fall into a restless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Birdie crushed out her cigarette, and leaned back against the wrought iron fence of her balcony. Watching the fading lights over the horizon, she let out a long sigh. Since the night he touched her hand (and even at the thought of it a tingle ran through said hand), Birdie hadn’t been able to get any more alone time with Paul. He and Mick were either already gone when she got home, or hard at practice, causing her to stumble in and quietly apologize in her own living space. She could tell that Mick was starting to grow antsy with the arrangements, and had mentioned that he and Bernie were looking into finding a rehearsal location. Having switched Paul over to bass, Mick was working harder than ever with him, and if the excited glances he frequently shot Birdie if she just happened to be in the vicinity of their practices, it was coming quite along. Pulling herself up off the ground, she made her way back into her flat. Letting out another sigh, she allowed herself to feel a twinge of loneliness. She had started to become accustomed to the presence of Mick and Paul over these past weeks. And even if they weren’t there when she got home, a few of their belongings always seemed strewn about the room. Tonight however, Mick had called off their rehearsal, claiming that Birdie deserved a quiet night at her own flat alone. He had even gone so far as to remove all of their equipment items, and order her takeaway before brushing a quick kiss on her cheek and leaving. Unable to figure out what to do with herself, Birdie had picked at her curry while watching the tube. Finally, she had shut it off, and turned on some music while she smoked on her balcony. Now, she decided that maybe a hot soak and a joint might quell her mood. She made her way inside and headed to her small, but functional bathroom. Drawing the bath, she thought not for the first time, that she should really make more efforts at forming friendships. Besides Mick and Crocker, after she left the orphanage, she seemed to have wanted no human interaction. She knew it was because of the taunting and bullying she experienced there and not that everyone was the same. This thought however, did nothing to squash her anxiety at interacting with people. Her coworkers at the Pub were always offering her an invite to a get together, or pub crawl here and there, and few of the female waitresses even invited her out dancing. Unfortunately, despite knowing them and their good intentions, Birdie still experienced the social anxiety. It even extended into her romantic life. She never developed deep relationships or feelings for any of the past men she had seen. Though she was friendly and even warm in the relationships, they all seemed to say the same thing: they didn’t feel like they were more than a convenient friend to shag. Some even complained that she seemed to treat Mick with more warmness than she did them. She was never able to fault their logic, and knew that since she was aware of it, she should strive to change it. Birdie let the joint hang out the corner of her mouth while she tested the water. She turned the hot water up higher and threw in a handful of bath salts. Birdie was the type of person who enjoyed her baths as hot as possible. To her, a bath or a shower was a way to scrub herself clean, and to start her emotions over. If she was feeling down and out, she soaked until the water grew cold, and her fingers and toes resembled old prunes. After that, she would make herself sit down and come up with a plan of action. With a sigh, she turned off the water, and put her joint out. Unfortunately, she didn’t think a soak would help her figure out the Paul situation. A large part of her wanted to just grow a pair and go for him. She had never been shy in the past, especially when she was attracted to someone. Granted, she had never felt the surge of heat and desire for anyone else like she felt for Paul. If she was honest, those feelings and Paul himself scared her. He was so intense, so raw, with that brooding gaze and pouty mouth. Feeling her face begin to flush, Birdie gave herself a mental shake and stripped down. She slipped into her bath with a sigh, enjoying the sharp sensation of the hot water rushing over her limbs. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back, and listened to the swing music that was still playing from her living room. Besides not knowing how Paul felt about her, or if she was out of her element, there was the factor of her protective Mick. Mick was not a fan of mixing business and pleasure. He was even more against anyone involving themselves in Birdie’s life romantically. It was a source of irritation and fond feelings for Birdie. She loved that Mick and Crocker were so protective of her, but she hated that he felt the need to interfere in her romantic life, especially since he kept his so secretive. Impulsively, Birdie took a deep breath and ducked her head under the water. She stayed under until her breath gave out, despite the burning of the hot bath. Pushing back up, she wiped her hair of her face, and made up her mind. She would stop being so timid. At least if she was rejected, she knew how Paul felt. Even as she thought this, she could feel her cowardly doubt creeping back up.   
“I can do it,” she said to herself. “Even if I have to drink an entire case of beer”.


	5. Chapter 5

Mick handed Birdie another pint from the tray the bar keep sat down, and she tried to decline to no avail. This was her 3rd one and she was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol. Her face was beginning to feel warm, and she could hear her words slurring a little. But Mick was in a celebratory mood, and Birdie was reluctant to mess it up for him. Much to her mixture of happiness and sadness, Mick had been practicing in their new rehearsal space for the past week. What’s more, they had even found a potential lead singer in someone named Joe. They had already gotten him on board, and were planning to have a first concert soon before the end July. Thought it didn’t leave them much time to begin rehearsing together, Birdie had faith that Mick would follow it through. He was eager to get their names out there, and they had begun brainstorming names for the band. Still, Birdie felt like Mick should use more time to rehearse. Birdie kept craning her neck around to look for Paul. He, along with this new Joe, were supposed to show up tonight, but she hadn’t seen either yet. Sipping a little of her beer, she tried to keep her face happy and cheerful as Mick shouted at her over the loud music. She was feeling the confidence she had earlier the week slipping the longer she went without seeing him. Still determined to at least get to the bottom of his feelings for her, she thought tonight would have been a perfect opportunity to try and be alone with him. Even now, Mick and everyone else were eyeing the pool table and the women who were coquettishly bending over and shooting them glances. Birdie gave Mick an encouraging shove towards them. With a mischievous grin, he dropped a quick peck on the top of her head, and sauntered over with the rest to “help” the girls perfect their game. Birdie let out a sigh as she played with her glass.  
“Where in the bloody hell is he?” she grumbled under her breath.   
She didn’t think she should stay much longer. With Mick preoccupied, and her getting a bit drunk, she didn’t think she should stay much longer. All of a sudden, she felt silly and small. What was she going to say anyway? “Oh hey, you’re the hottest piece of brooding ass I’ve seen in a while, and you make me feel all tingling inside. Wanna’ shag?”  
She scoffed at herself. Downing her beer, she flagged the waitress over to pay for the beers. With a quick wave at Mick, she left.

 

Paul cursed under his breath as he lit up his cigarette outside. He knew he was supposed to have met up with his band mates. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to have to travel to the pub and deal with the crowd, but if he was honest he knew it was because of the chance Birdie, no Lettie, would be there. He wasn’t sure what to do about the rush of desire he felt every time he saw her. Her thick hair and large eyes. Her small soft hands… If he allowed himself to, he could drift along to the thought of her small hands gripping something of his that was growing harder by the moment. He used his free hand to adjust his pants, and took an angry drag on his cigarette. He didn’t want to be involved with any complications right now, and he really didn’t want to be involved with the girl of one of his band mates. Because though she may deny it, with how protective Mick was over her, she might as well be. He caught how he would try and dominate her attention at any given time, or shield her with his body from others. Hell, Paul even had a hard time looking at her when Mick was around. And now, with them finally getting a rehearsal space and a potential singer, the band was coming together. He wanted to be a part of this since painting didn’t seem to be enough to satisfy him. As of late, he was having a hard time painting anyway. He kept drifting off into space, or drawing faint outlines of the curve of Lettie’s cheek. And then with an angry groan, he would crumble up the paper, and get himself lost in trying to perfect his bass playing. He was coming along great, and with Mick’s relentless, though patient instructions, he was finally confident enough to start playing on his own. And he was enjoying it. Rehearsing with Mick and the gang had been the most fun he had in weeks. The companionship to a usual lone wolf had made him feel included. Mick was such a diva, but he was a perfectionist and was great company. Funny and quick, Paul felt himself relaxing around him more and more. This was another reason why getting involved with Lettie didn’t lend well for his current state of mind. He crushed his cigarette out on the side of the building. He hitched his jacket up around his ears and made his mind. He couldn’t shirk events because she might be there. He had a duty to his band and new friends. 

Paul’s head was playing an amazing drum crescendo against his temples. He had gotten piss drunk upon arriving at the bar and seeing that Lettie was nowhere around. Unwilling to admit even to himself she was the cause, he had set out determined to be the life of the gathering. Mick was already in a few when he got there, and gladly encouraged Paul to catch up. Plus with the addition of Joe, they were in fine spirits. He had ended up sleeping at the studio. He actually didn’t have a stable living space at the moment, and had decided to camp out at the studio as long as they could lease it. The studio had a little side room that made a perfect area to stick a cot, hot plate, and a lantern. Plus, he could be right at the studio to practice. Added to that, he had started exploring the basement of the building and found some interesting abandoned hallways. Later, when he didn’t feel so blah, he would explore them. He shot a glance at the clock next to him and saw that he had at least another hour before the scheduled time. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, his bladder had other plans for him, and he only managed thirty. He waited until his head settled itself, and then slowly made his way to the bathroom. After reliving himself, he washed up and brushed his teeth. He was just about to rummage through his bag for a clean shirt when he heard the sound of crashing cans in the rehearsal room. Thinking it was Mick who always showed up early and eager to start, he headed out yelling,  
“Hey wanker! You’re early!”  
Instead of Mick, he came upon a startled Lettie. She was frozen in place with a trash bag in her hand and a pile of discarded cans at her feet. Her face was so red, Paul wondered if she would explode. Her wide eyes seemed to be looking everywhere but at him, and Paul realized with a confusing spark of embarrassment himself that he was still shirtless. Not used to be embarrassed about something as simple as being shirtless he cleared his throat a little, trying to ease the awkwardness in the air.   
“Sorry. I, uh, I thought you were Mick. What are you doing here?” he said.   
“I was just cleaning up for you guys”, she responded in a whisper.  
Paul noticed with a start that she had her hair down. It was lovely. Swirls and tangles of curls cascaded around her shoulders and fell all the way to her waist. It looked so soft and touchable, Paul couldn’t resist. Paul walked over to her slowly. She still refused to look at him. Reaching out to catch up one of her curls, he noticed she flinched slightly. He bit back a frustrated sigh. What, was she still so afraid of him? Well, if she knew half of the thoughts he was entertaining about her in his head right now, maybe she should be. As if on cue, she raised her dark eyes up to his and he watched them widen even more. He heard the trash bag slide out of her hand. He continued the progress of his hand, and wrapped a soft curl around his finger. Slightly damp, he could smell the faint scent of flowers from her shampoo. Releasing the curl, he buried his hand slightly deeper in her hair. Her eyes fluttered closed a bit, but she opened them again with that frightened look. Her body had begun to sway a little towards him, and the air felt thick with tension.  
“I like your hair down,” he managed to choke out.   
Then, unable to help it any longer, he lowered his head bit by bit, and brushed his lips gently against hers. She was so much shorter than him. He felt rather than heard her gasp, but when she didn’t pull back, he raised his other hand in buried it in her hair too. Rubbing his nose against hers, he pulled her closer and brushed her lips again. He willed her to put her arms around him, because if she pushed him away now, he didn’t think he could handle the rejection. He raised his head from her lips, and would have stepped back to apologize, to blame his actions on his hangover, but her hands on his waist stopped him. Standing on her tiptoes, she raised her face back up to his. Paul felt a rush of triumph before he lowered his mouth back down to hers. Kissing her slowly and deeply, he took the time to savor the taste of her mouth, and groaned a little when he felt her small tongue reach out shyly to seek out his own. He walked her backwards until her back hit the wall. Lowering his hands from her hair, he gripped her hips and grinded into her hard. She let out a little whimper, and Paul pushed harder against her in response. Speeding up the urgency of his kisses, he angled his head to kiss her deeper and harder. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth. He pulled away and begin trailing kisses down her throat, flicking his tongue over the frantic pulse at her neck. Drunk off her whimpers, he almost didn’t hear the slamming of the door. Luckily, Mick wasn’t a quiet person.  
“Hey you arse! Wake up!!”  
Quick as lightening, Paul sprung away from Lettie. He knew that if Mick took one look at him and Lettie, he would have no problem figured out what happened. Deciding to spare Lettie (and himself if he was honest), the confrontation, he sprint to his room. 

 

Lettie brushed her disarrayed hair down as quickly as she could. It was a losing battle however, and she hoped that Mick would just chalk it up to her hair’s natural wildness. Coming around the corner, he beamed at her with his toothy grin. He practically ran over and swept her up in a tight hug. Setting her down, he ruffled her hair into a further mess. Pushing him away with a laugh, she noticed that besides the shadows under his eyes, you wouldn’t have thought he spent the night drinking.

“Birdie! What are you doing here? And why is your face so flushed?”  
“I, ah, I came over to clean up,” she flustered out. “I know how messy you can be when you focus hard. Plus, I hadn’t gotten the grand tour of the place. And wanted to surprise you. I even have some shortbread in that tin over there for you.”  
Mick’s response was to drop a kiss on Birdie’s forehead, and nearly lunged for the tin. He pulled it open and almost shoved an entire cookie in his mouth. After chewing and swallowing, he looked around.  
“Where’s Paul? Is he still sleeping?”  
“How would I know?” Birdie pretty much snapped, and felt her face start to flush again.  
Mick shot her a confused then inquiring glance, but she was saved from coming up with another comment by Paul’s appearance in the doorway. Thankfully, he had donned a shirt, and she was spared the sight of how low his jeans hung on his hips, or how smooth the expanse of his stomach and chest were besides that tantalizing trail that led down from his belly button. Without thinking, she rubbed her lips where she still tingled from his onslaught of kisses. She had never been so swept up in kissing. She still hadn’t gotten her bearings. He shot her a glance over Mick’s head, and she felt her nipples tighten in response. She looked away and resumed her cleaning. It seemed the best route given her betraying flushes. She hadn’t expected him to be here. Well, if she was honest, she had stopped by with the chance of getting to talk to him for more than five minutes. It seemed that the more Mick got into the band, the less she was seeing of him or Paul. She was happy for Mick, but she felt a little lonely nonetheless. Plus, with Paul, she wasn’t able to figure out her ground with him. Why was it so different with him? He was the most attractive of any of the guys she had been with in the past sure, but she wasn’t a little girl with her first crush. But when she had saw him with his sleep swept hair, and those penetrating blue eyes, she had froze. A bare torso had never been such a turn on to her in the past either. The minute he had stood close to her, the raw sexuality crackling between them had made her knees weak. She hadn’t meant to flinch when he reached out, but she had been straining for some touch or sign from him for so long that when it came she didn’t know if she could handle it. She almost hadn’t been able to when he kissed her. That slow way he had explore her mouth and rubbed his nose against hers had given her the boldness she needed to show him she was just as affected by him as he apparently was by her. She tried to subtly rub her legs together to relieve the ache there. The hot gazes Paul kept shooting her when Mick was looking weren’t helping either. At the moment, she still couldn’t grasp that he had felt that burning need she did when he was around. She had finished cleaning up the room, and could tell by Mick’s anxiousness he wanted her to go so they could get started setting up for the rest of the band to show up She didn’t want to be a hindrance, or have him realize her real intentions were to stay around Paul.  
“I, I guess I’ll get going then?” she asked.  
Mick shot an almost sheepish look at Birdie. He loved her, but he needed to concentrate and the rest of the band would be showing up. Rather she realized it or not, Birdie could be a real distraction. She was so unconscious of her looks, her bright personality, and overall sweetness. It was one of the reasons he was so protective of her. Also, he grew a bit possessive of her, if he was honest with himself. He didn’t really have any designs on her (none he was willing to admit at least), but that didn’t mean he didn’t want all her attention on him. It was selfish he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to change it. He felt that after a while though, the band would begin to think of her in the same manner as he did. He reached out for her, and gave her a hug. Sometimes he took her for granted, but he really did love Birdie. With one last wave, she left the room. Shooting Paul a glance, and unable to read the expression on his face, Mick shot him a smile.  
“Let’s get started, shall we?”


	6. Chapter 6

Birdie twisted a strand of her dark hair around her finger, uncertainly. She was staring at the outfit she had planned for Mick’s band’s first concert thrown across her bed, and was fighting off the urge to trade it for a sweater and jeans. Mick had called her up earlier this week to let her know of the big date. Excited for Mick, Birdie had made a comment about dressing up for the big event. Laughing at the idea, Mick quickly dismissed it, telling Birdie that she wasn’t “girly” enough for such. Birdie had felt a slight sting at his words, but had to admit he was right. She had always wanted to try and be a little more in touch with her softer side, but ultimately had given it up. There was never a situation that called for it, and being friends with two guys didn’t help the situation. Birdie finally spritzed herself with body spray and got dressed. Staring at herself in the full length mirror, she tried to tug the short skirt down, self-consciously. She had decided on a short tight leather skirt with red satin trim. For her top, she opted for a black studded vest that left a strip of her lower stomach bare right where the skirt hit. To top it off, she had fishnets, and a pair of leopard printed heels she had bought on impulse. She had left her hair down and pinned it to one side. After applying half a bottle of mousse, her curls were practically frozen in a relaxed curl. Not sure how to do her make-up, she stuck with the basics: eyeliner, mascara, and dark red lipstick. In truth, Mick was only part of the reason she was trying. Obviously, she wanted Paul to notice her. She had been replaying that kiss in her head for the past few days. She never knew kissing could awaken such arousal and heat in herself. No matter how many times she had touched herself, it did nothing to alleviate the simmering current in her blood. Thinking about it now, she felt her stomach clench, and heat flood her lower body. She almost fearfully wanted another encounter with him, and wanted him to take it further. It scared her though. If kissing destroyed her like this, what would something more do to her? She didn’t know, but she knew she wanted to find out no matter the cost. She frowned at her reflection. She knew that chances are she wouldn’t get much alone time or chance thereof with him tonight. Concerts that your band was in made it hard to form clandestine meetings in the bathroom. Feeling the butterflies start up already, she threw a glance at her watch and knew she would have to leave now in order to get there on time. Mick would never forgive her if she was late. Grabbing a jean jacket in case she got cold later, she grabbed her purse and headed out for the Underground. 

Birdie practically ran into the concert building. Luckily, she had remembered the name. The Black Swan was already hard to find, let alone with Mick’s directions. It was a dark little building set back from the busy neighborhood around it. Covered in grit, and painted black, the sign hanging on a window sill was almost unreadable and multiple people hung outside smoking. Birdie could hear the music before she even hit the front door. There was no bouncer, so she just walked right in and was nearly assaulted with the mingling smells of body sweat and alcohol. It seemed a haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air despite the no smoking sign behind the bar, and the only area that was properly lit was the stage. The air was even muggier in here than it was in the July air outside. Shifting her jacket to her other arm, she wiped off some of the sweat that had already sprung on her forehead, and mentally kissed her tidy hair goodbye. After walking around, and failing to find anyone, she spied a door by the stage that had “Bands” tagged over it. Walking as quickly as her heels would let her, lest she get stopped and not be allowed back there, she slipped through the heavy door. She found herself in a narrow hallway with signatures written all over the walls. Birdie assumed they were from different bands that had played there. She could hear loud voices and laughter at a brightly like area down the hallway. She made her way down there, and walked into the room. Mick and the guys were standing around with the other band they were playing with named the Sex Pistols. Mick was talking with a tall good looking guy with brown slightly curly hair. Since she hadn’t met him before, Birdie assumed he was Joe, their new singer. Sneaking up behind Mick, she shouted “boo!” and squeezed his shoulders, laughing when he whirled around in fright. He did a double take at Birdie’s outfit, as did the rest of the band. Birdie tugged at the skirt, feeling again the acute stab of self-consciousness. Feeling her face burn, she cleared her throat a bit. Mick seemed to snap out of it.  
“Oh, right Birdie. You, you look quite nice. This is, is Joe,” he finished practically thrusting Joe in front of him before he even had a chance to stick his hand out to Birdie. Birdie felt a stir of womanly pride. “Ha!” She wanted to shout at him. So much for her not being able to dress up. Her plan slightly backfired though. As she shook Joe’s hand, Mick came to stand beside her, and practically shielded her body with his.   
“Right” he said. “Come meet the other band”.   
Before Birdie could even answer, he was steering her away. She resisted the urge to stomp on his foot with her heel. She didn’t even get a chance to look at Paul, let alone see if he liked her outfit. She plastered a smile on her face as Mick introduced her to the members of the Sex Pistols, and a few girls they were with. Pretending to actively listen, she was trying to subtly look towards Paul. Much to her disappointment, he wasn’t even looking her way; instead he was in conversation with Bernie and Keith Levene, laughing and quite enjoying himself. Birdie had a strong inclination to chuck her purse at him. Instead, she made some excuse to Mick about setting her jacket on the hook in the corner in order to walk in his field of vision. On her way back to Mick’s side, she was able to catch his eye, and waved a little to him. Instead of a smile or nod, he just slowly raised one eyebrow and went back to his conversation. Birdie let her hand drop, and felt a bit embarassed. She walked slowly back to Mick’s side, feeling confused. Did she do something wrong? She hadn’t even seen him too recently, so that couldn’t be it. It had to be the fact that they were around so many people, Mick included. He probably didn’t want any problems with Mick before their first concert. Well Birdie would play mum until she could get a chance to get him alone. Since they were playing first, that left plenty of time. With a mental pat of encouragement, she tuned fully into what Mick was jabbering on about.

Birdie sat at one of the few tabled in the bar. Scarred with traces of names and angry phrases, she ran her fingers over the rough surface while preparing her plan of attack. Mick’s band, which she had found out was going to be called The Clash, had just finished playing, and it was well, rough to say the least. While they had a good direction going, it was clear to Birdie (and the band it seemed), that they needed much more time to practice. Over at the bar, they were talking to a few people who had come to see the show, Paul casually leaning against the bar next to Mick. Bernie and Keith seemed to be in a serious conversation, and Joe was making his way over to Birdie, two frosty bottles of beer in his hand.  
“Here ya’ go, Birdie was it?”  
“Cheers” she said. “And yeah, it’s Birdie.”

They sat in silence for a moment, each taking the time to relish the cold beverage.  
“How do you think we did?” Joe asked suddenly.   
Birdie wasn’t able to hide the grimace that caused her to slightly hunch up her shoulders. To her surprise, Joe let out a little laugh. Mick was never ok with any type of negative criticisms in the beginning of any project he was working on. Birdie was about to apologize when he stopped her with a wave of his hand.  
“S’okay. We just need a little more polish, but just you wait. We’re on to something here.”  
Birdie couldn’t help but agree with Joe. She tried to see him better in the dark bar. She had liked the honest look of his face. And the fact that he was the only one who came over after the performance was a point in his favor. 

“How long have you and Mick been mates?”

Birdie smiled at Joe, hoping he could see it.   
“Forever it seems. I’ve known him since I was a little kid”, she said. “You know, you’re the first one who didn’t think we were a thing. Why is that?”

Joe shrugged before responding.  
“You just didn’t seem like it when he introduced you. Besides, it would be a poor boyfriend who would leave his girl alone for two random birds.”  
Birdie felt her smile slide off her face as she looked up. She wasn’t concerned with the girls who were hanging on Mick’s arm. But there was a girl standing between Paul’s legs, running her fingers lightly up his chest. He didn’t seem in any hurry to move her. In fact, his arms were propped up on the side of the bar, and he seemed to be smiling lazily in the little tart’s upturned face. Leaning in, she seemed like she was going in for a kiss. Birdie didn’t stick around to see if she did or didn’t. Standing up suddenly, she practically kicked her chair backwards, and after mumbling some excuse about fresh air to Joe, she all but ran outside.   
It had started to rain, and her jacket was still inside the building. Stumbling over some rocks, Birdie suddenly felt so foolish in her high heels. She had dressed up for a night of embarrassment. Fighting the urge to wipe off her make-up, she went to the side of the bar away from all the crowd. Why on Earth did she think Paul would see her, let alone feel the same way that she did was beyond her imagination. For the first time in a long time, she felt young and naïve. She had spent the better half of a week building up such sweet fantasies in her head that the strong bite of reality had all but torn her apart. He wasn’t interested in Birdie the person. Rather, just Birdie the easy girl who had drooled over him since their first encounter. There was a reason she kept men at bay, and this was why. Birdie was so eager, so envious of love that she would do whatever it took to obtain it. However, she was too honest with herself to ever allow it to blossom amongst the men she would see. Still, she had somehow placed those ideas on to Paul. Maybe it was the mysterious nature of his personality, or just the electric shock of attraction she felt for him. Either way, she had allowed herself to begin hoping. She chocked back a sob. She didn’t even understand why she was so upset! Paul was certainly not the first guy who had rejected her in a not so subtle way. So why in bloody hell did it hurt so badly? The rain was coming down now, but she still couldn’t bring herself to go back into the pub for her jacket. She didn’t want to face Paul, but she also didn’t want to see Joe again, and have to explain her abrupt departure. She hoped he didn’t think it was because of him, and she knew that if he asked, she would be forced to explain why to him. He seemed like such a nice guy though, even if he was older like Mick had mentioned. Birdie let out a frustrated sigh, and moved underneath an awning.   
“Oy, Lettie!”  
Birdie looked up with a start. Paul was making his way over to her, holding up his hand in a vain attempt to shield rain from his face.  
“What are you doing?” he all but snapped at Birdie. “It’s raining out here”.

“I just wanted some fresh air” she muttered, trying hard to paste a smile on her. His dubious expression made her begin to start rambling.  
“It’s raining, I know. But it’s a warm rain. I’ve always liked the rain anyway. When I was younger, and days were bad at the orphanage, it always seemed to rain when I cried. So after a while, I used to pretend it was my parents crying in sympathy with me.”

Paul’s look of pity was too much for Birdie. She didn’t want his pity or sympathy. She didn’t want anything from him anymore. All she wanted was to go home, take a hot bath, and pretend tonight had never happened. She cut him off before he could start to speak.  
“Of course I grew up and realized it wasn’t true. It was a disappointment, but that’s life. You think one thing of people, and you’re let down more times than not. You show yourself to them, and they still let you down. You’d think I’d grow used to it, and stop trying. But I always seem to forget it. It’s a fault of mine. I want to see and think the best of people.” She wrapped her arms around herself, and looked down.

“Even people who snog you senseless one day, and flirt with women in front of you the next.”  
Paul give a little bit of a start. He seemed like he was about to open his mouth to explain, but someone yelled his name behind them. When Paul turned to look, Birdie took the opportunity to slip around the building where she couldn’t be seen by Paul or whoever was seeking him out.  
“Hey, what are you doing out here? The Sex Pistols are about to start.” It was Bernie. Paul mumbled a response, and after a few seconds left. Birdie let out a sigh, and decided to call it a night. Hoping that Paul would make some excuse for her to Mick, she made her way to the tube station. 

Paul chugged the beer in his hand. Already in a pissy mood, this bar wasn’t helping. It was the night after their debut and they all and the Sex Pistols were at Dingwalls to watch the Ramones, a popular American punk band. Mick had offered Lettie a chance to come, but he said she had declined. Commenting on how weird she had been lately, he chalked it up to all the crowded venues they had been going to as of late. He explained to them that she was still such a shy “lil bird”, and Paul had to bite back the urge to snort and correct him about her reasons. He noticed that Joe had been giving him looks as if he was trying to process something in his head, but Paul didn’t care. It was probably due to his surly nature that he was watching him anyway. He liked Joe, though. He had forced himself to participate in a conversation about the direction of the band, and noted that Joe, the only real veteran of a long standing band, had some great ideas. He wished he could be practicing right now, or listening to his reggae albums. They were standing around the stage watching the opening band the Stranglers play. He wanted another beer. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole Lettie situation. He didn’t even get a chance to explain himself. He had known the girl who had been standing between his legs. Her name was Greta, and he had used to hook up with her. They had had an understanding that that’s all the relationship had been about, but Greta had always tried to tease Paul into committing to more. She liked the idea of conquering someone who had remained as aloof as he had with her. A heedless flirt and quite the charmer when she set her sights on you, she had just got done trying to get another man to buy her a drink before she had slid up to Paul. Her playful banter had amused him, and he had known she was harmless. Lettie, however, did not. He cursed under his breath. How in the bloody hell was he supposed to know she was watching him? She didn’t seem to mind keeping company with Joe anyway. Besides they weren’t dating. He was free to talk to whoever he wanted. This is why he didn’t like to mix business and pleasure. Birdie being friends with Mick made it damn near impossible to avoid her. If he didn’t explain himself, he was sure she wouldn’t approach him first. He should just use this situation as way to let it go easy. That would probably be best. Then why was he hiding her jacket in his bedroom waiting for the perfect opportunity to bring it to her? That was out of courtesy, he mentally insisted. Though he could just give the jacket to Mick to give to her, he wanted to make sure she actually got it was all. He chugged his beer and decided to bring up the topic of the jacket to Mick and be done with the whole thing. The band had just finished playing and this would be a good opportunity to do so. Without thinking, Paul spit on the ground. Instantly, one of the members of the Stranglers was in his face, and pushing him. It was the fuel Paul needed. Unleashing his angry mood, he saw black and swung. The whole fight passed with a blur. One minute he was fighting on the stage, the next he and the rest of the band along with the Sex Pistols were outside. While they were all still fighting, Bernie and other people made a valiant attempt to break it up. Finally, dragging them all apart, Paul asked Mick if he was ok. Smoothing back his hair, and dapping at a split lip, he nodded. Still trying to keep them all together, Bernie shook his head a bit.  
“Tossers”, he mumbled underneath his breath staring at the retreating back of the Stranglers. “Let’s just call it a night gentlemen. We got a big month of practicing coming up ahead of us”. A few of the Sex Pistols flipped Bernie the bird and snickered as they made their way back into the bar. Chests still heaving, they decided to heed Bernie’s words. Joe slapped him on the back as they made their way together.  
“You got one mean right hook”, he said smiling. Paul snickered along with him.

Paul sat on his bed, head swimming a bit from the beer. Smoking a cigarette, he threw a glance at the clock. It was only half past nine. Before he could stop his impulse, he put out his cigarette and snatched up Birdie’s jacket. Since his stop was after Mick’s, there wasn’t any way for him to give him Lettie’s jacket. And besides, it had been too long. It would look bad to Mick if he gave it to him now he reasoned.   
“I’ll just pop over and drop it off. Nothing more. I don’t need to explain myself anyway,” he said to himself.   
Paul walked up to Lettie’s door and tried his hardest to squish the nerves in his stomach. He knocked quickly before he could change his mind, and listened for her footsteps.  
“Oh… it’s you,” she said when she opened it. Paul tried to ignore the vague disappointment he heard in her voice. Studying the jacket in his hand, he waited.  
“Come in then”.

She stood back, and Paul walked past her. As usual, her flat smelled delicious. He looked on her counter, and saw a plate of scones, and various other pastries.  
“I’ve been baking all day. It helps me feel better. I thought you all would still be at the concert. Mick said he would ring me up afterwards, but he hasn’t yet,” she said behind him. Her voice was so neutral, Paul felt like he had to explain himself to her.  
“I’ve got your jacket. That’s, that’s why I’m here. I’m sure Mick’s nursing his split lip.”  
Turning to look at her, Paul tried not to stare. She obviously wasn’t expecting company, and he wondered why she opened the door for him. Wearing a thin white shirt that hit the top of her belly button, he didn’t think that she was wearing a bra. He could see the dark peaks of her breast underneath. She had on plaid shorts that barely covered her bum, and her dark hair was held back in a ponytail by some sort of clip. She looked so innocent and yet so seductive, it was driving Paul crazy. She seemed to have no idea of the effect she was wrecking on his senses, and breezed by him, snatching her jacket out of her hand on the way to her couch. She sat down, and crossed her arms, pulling her shirt even tighter against her. Irritated at how unaffected she seemed by his presence, he snapped out,  
“Do you always answer the door nearly naked?”  
Birdie closed her eyes for a moment before ignoring his question and asking one of her own.  
“Why does Mick has a split lip? Was he fighting again? Swear I leave him alone for one night, and he’s back to picking fights. I’ll give him a talk tomorrow”.   
She looked up at Paul. “Thanks for the jacket. You can go now.”

Paul knew this is where he should go. He was still buzzing from the beer, and it was clear she didn’t want to talk to him. But he couldn’t leave it like this. Not when he remembered how hurt she had been yesterday, or how unconsciously sexy she looked right now.   
“Lettie…” he said almost pleadingly. She seemed to have to recollect herself before looking up at him. Walking over to her, he grabbed her hands so she was standing up. She was looking at him with that wide eyed, fearful look now, and all it did was add to his desire for her. Reaching into her hair, he fumbled with the clip, undoing it and running his fingers through it, massaging her scalp lightly. Her eyes drifted closed and she tilted her head back. Paul saw his opportunity and took. He kissed her. Hard. He could taste her toothpaste, and the sweet taste of her mouth. Angling her head with his hands, he dragged his tongue over her lower lip, and nibbled at it. What was he doing? She needed to be comforted and he need to explain himself. Instead, he was seducing her. He pulled back slightly from her. Opening her eyes, she stared up with him with eyes, glazed and parted lips that were dewy from his kisses. He had to resist the urge to go back in for more. Instead, he knew he had to give her a chance out of this.  
“Lettie, you need to push me away now because I don’t think I can stop on my own”.  
Staring back up at him, she seemed to search his face. Just when he thought she would do as he asked her, she let out a gentle sigh, and pulled him back down for a kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 

 

As soon as Birdie heard Paul say her name in that tone, she knew she was lost. She had been getting ready for bed when she had heard the knock on the door, and without thinking had run over to see who it could be as such an hour through the peep hole. The last person she had expected to see had been Paul. And truth be told, he was the last person she had wanted to see. Her feelings were still out of jumble from the previous night, and she had spent the better half of her day baking after work. She almost didn’t answer the door when she saw him, but she wasn’t strong enough to resist that pull she felt towards him even then. She hadn’t been thinking of her clothing until it was too late. Feeling extremely self-conscious and wanting to show her displeasure with him, she had tried to not look at him. She knew if she looked at him, she would forget that she had every right to turn him away, especially with his abrupt attitude. He had clearly been drinking on top of it as well. So she had asked him to go, and contradicted her words by praying internally that he wouldn’t. Not one to disappoint, he hadn’t, and instead had kissed her in a way that had taken the breath out of her lungs. She had only hesitated for the briefest moment before pulling his mouth back down to meet hers. Come what may, she wanted, almost needed this. She had been aching for his touch for so long, even his insensitivity couldn’t damp down her desire. His kisses were so hot, she thought she would burn. Trailing from her mouth to the side of her neck, he swirled his tongue over her sensitive pulse before biting gently. Birdie let out a sigh, as he soothed the bite with his warm tongue. He had one hand buried in her hair, and the other was stroking the skin under her shirt. Making his way to her breast, he grazed her nipple with his calloused fingertips before tweaking it slightly. Birdie thought she would melt into the floor right then and there. Pressing her body as close against his as possible, he almost couldn’t get his hand back out. Grabbing her waist, he pulled her even closer against him, grinding his erection into her. His fingers were digging into the side of her hips, and Birdie grabbed his upper arms to keep her head from spinning.  
“Your bedroom?” he growled out.

Birdie just nodded her head “yes” in response. Noting his confused look, she tried to speak, but gave up and just tossed her head into the general direction behind her. In one swift move, he had her up in his arms. Reflexively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and threw her hands around his neck. Usually she hated when past lovers had picked her up. As someone who was already small, being carried only reinforced the fact and made her feel like a helpless child. But when Paul struggled to kiss her as he walked haltingly to her bedroom, she decided it was her new favorite thing. He gently laid her down on her bed and continued his assault of kisses. She struggled to sit up to take off her shirt, and Paul’s frantic fingers quickly aided her. Gluing his lips right back on her afterwards, he cupped and kneaded her breasts in his hands. Licking down her neck, he roughly sucked her right nipple into his mouth. Birdie let out a loud gasp as liquid heat pooled between her legs. She threaded her fingers through his hair, and pulled him closer. As good as his mouth felt, she needed to touch him. Frustrated with any barrier between her hot flesh and his, she pushed him gently back. Reaching down and grabbing the hem of his t-shirt, she yanked it over his head, and attacked his flesh with her mouth. She bit and kissed over his neck, chest, and just about any place she could get her mouth to, relishing in the slightly salty taste of his skin and the hard feeling of his lithe muscles. Reaching between them, she stroked him over his jeans, and leant forward to lick at his lower lip. Paul let out a shudder and rocked himself into her hand. After a while, he batted her hand away, and sat back. Reaching down, he tugged her shorts off, leaving her completely naked. He sat back on his heels, and stared down at her intently. Unable to read his gaze in the silvery throw of moonlight shining through her bedroom window, Birdie felt a stirring of self-consciousness as she flushed under his heavy gaze. She knew she was thin, and lacking in curves. Some of her past boyfriends had even commented on that fact. Maybe Paul had expected more and was dissatisfied. She felt a stab of panic, and reached up to cover her small breasts.  
“Don’t”, he whispered.  
Birdie froze. Paul reached out and grabbed her hand, and sucked on one of her fingers before pinning her hand down. He ran his other hand down the center of her body, and tickled the curls at the juncture of her thighs. Birdie felt her heart start racing again and willed with all her internal might for him to use those long fingers somewhere else. Instead he took his time and continued to just gently graze her.

“You’re so bloody beautiful, Lettie.”

Birdie felt her heart leap into her throat at his words. Without breaking eye contact with her, Paul slowly slid one of his fingers into her, and Birdie arched into it, throwing her head back. She felt a sweet haze cloud her mind as Paul used his thumb to rub her clitoris and try as she might, couldn’t stop the cry that came out of her mouth. He inserted another finger in her, pumping her into a wonderful state of pleasure. Angling her hips up, she tried to milk every ounce of pleasure from his hand. She felt her belly begin to coil up, and grabbed his wrist, grinding into her source of pleasure. Paul pulled his hand out of her when she was just reaching the crest of her release, and Birdie cried out in disappointment. Opening her eyes, she saw him struggling to get out of his jeans.

“I want to be in you when you cum, Lettie. I want to feel you around me.”  
Birdie swore she almost came at his words. Never had she felt such a blind desire to be taken completely. As Paul kicked off his jeans and underwear, she couldn’t resist sitting up and reaching out and touching his cock. Licking gently at his tip, she marveled at the size. Thick and jutting, she felt a brief moment of worry that he wouldn’t fit. She wrapped her small hand around it to get a better gauge on it. She hadn’t expected him to be so big.

“Lettie, I, for fuck’s sake I can’t take much more of that.”

But despite his complaint, Paul didn’t swipe her hand away. Instead, he wrapped his hand over hers and helped guide her hand up and down his shaft. He had his head thrown back and his eyes closed as he slowly pumped himself with her hand, letting out a strangled moan.  
“Paul, please,” she nearly sobbed.

Reaching down, Paul was about to spread her legs, when his face suddenly fell and froze. Feeling a frantic need to scream at the stall, Birdie asked what was wrong, hating the desperate need that coated her voice in a whine. Paul looked her, as he rubbed the inside of her thigh.

“I don’t have any rubbers. I, I didn’t think you would want to see me.”

Birdie let out a short laugh, despite the haze of desire that hung over her. She twisted to reach her bedside dresser and practically wrenching open the drawer, grabbed a loose rubber. She handed it to Paul, and his face twisted into a shadowy grimace.

“Have a lot a visitors, then?”

This time Birdie did let out a small scream of frustration.

“Be jealous later, Simonon. Right now, just give it to me proper before I go mad.”

And taking the condom from his hand, she ripped it open herself and lent forward to roll it down Paul’s shaft. He let out a small hiss at her maneuvers, and after she was done, shoved her back down on the bed. Birdie’s nether region rejoiced as he returned his hand to their former occupation of driving her to the edge, and worshipped the peaks of her breasts with his mouth. He soon took her to the verge again, and she gripped his hand. She couldn’t stop the noises that were escaping her as she squirmed on the mattress. All she could do was pant out a series of breathless whimpers. She was almost at her peak, and as she begin to fall, Paul suddenly pinned her hands by her head, and thrusting forward, tried to bury himself into her in one quick drive. Birdie was right though, and he stopped before he got very far. Feeling herself adjust to accommodate his girth, Paul gave a quick hard push to get himself adjusted. It was too much for Birdie’s strung nerves, and she came so hard and fast she saw stars. Her cries of release were caught in Paul’s mouth as he lavished more kisses on her bruised lips. Her orgasm was replaced with waves and waves of more pleasure as he began to rock into her. Clamping on hand over her breast, and the other on her hip, he drove into her and Birdie arched her hips as high as she could to meet his thrust hard, both of them crying out when their hips met. Paul buried his face into the side of her neck, and threw her leg over his shoulder before he sped up his pumps. Biting down hard on her, she was sent over once more. Birdie came again, her toes curling with the relief, and her hands twisting Paul’s hair as she writhed. Paul’s thrusts became sloppier and more uncoordinated, and not too long after her, he let out a long groan and kept pumping even as he pulsed his climax into her. Finally stilling at the end of his last hard thrust, he pulled out causing after waves of her orgasm to shake her, and taking her leg gently off his shoulder, collapsed half on her and half on the side of the bed. Both of them were panting, and it was a good 5 minutes before they were able to catch their breath. Birdie felt her eyes drift shut as Paul pressed a kiss to her sweaty temple. He hopped off the bed, and Birdie shivered as the cold hit her sensitive body. Feeling completely boneless, she wanted to fall asleep, despite the sticky mess she felt between her legs. Hearing Paul make his way back to her on the bed, she jumped slightly when she felt a cold towel touch her between her legs.

“Just thought I’d clean you up.”  
“Yes, well rubbing my clitoris isn’t really cleaning me up, Simonon”, Birdie gasped out, her hips beginning to roll again.  
“Sorry about that.”

But given the smirk Birdie heard in his voice, she knew he wasn’t. Tossing the towel in the general direction of her dresser, Paul climbed back into the bed with her, pulling her duvet over them as he pulled her against his chest. Feeling a rush of contentment she hadn’t experienced in a while, Birdie drifted off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

Paul was aware of two things as he began waking up. One: his bladder was fully and insistently throbbing. And two: there was a cozy, warm ball snuggled tightly against his chest. As he slowly became aware of his surroundings, he remembered the previous night: stumbling to Lettie’s place, seducing her, and falling asleep in her large, soft bed. Not wanting to leave the warmth, he finally disengaged himself to head to the john. Lettie rolled over to the side he just vacated with a soft sigh. After releasing his bladder and swishing a capful of mouth rinse, he stood in the doorway, debating on picking his clothes on and leaving. Paul wasn’t one for staying the night, nor was he really one for such passionate displays. In the past, his relationships were aloof, and almost an agreement. They were used to find mutual satisfaction from each other’s bodies, no strings attached. But as he began to remember more details of last night, he knew that he couldn’t be farther from the mark with Lettie. He had practically begged her to let him stay. And as he remember details of how involved he was with her pleasure, he felt his neck grow hot. Paul wasn’t a neglectful lover, by any means. But he also wasn’t one for foreplay, or unnecessary kissing. So why had it been so different with Lettie? Sure she was beautiful, and seeing her now, bathed in the glow from the bathroom light, lips slightly parted as she slept, and the duvet pooling around her waist, he felt his desire stir again. But that didn’t explain the need he felt to know more than just her body, but her quirks. He shook his head, and sighed. To distract himself from his thoughts, he looked around her bedroom. It was done simply, but comfortably. In girly shades of soft pink and lavender, she only had essential furniture and not much flair. He walked over quietly to her dresser, and looked at the photos she had there. There was one of a brightly smiling girl with missing front teeth and frizzy hair practically tackling a skinny boy with hair almost long enough to hit his shoulders. Another stocky boy stood next to them, laughing staring down at them.

“That’s me, Mick, and Crocker” a husky voice said behind him.

He turned to see Lettie sleepily pushing hair out of her eyes before arching her back in a stretch. Completely comfortable with her nudity, she lifted her heavy cloud of hair off of her shoulders before letting it fall again, and Paul bit back a groan. She looked so delicious. 

“His gram took that. It was Mick’s birthday, I think.”

Laying back down, she blinked those wide eyes at Paul before smiling. Paul felt his arousal rise higher with the cat with the cream look in her eyes. Glancing down at the obvious sign, she blushed slightly, and her eyes went everywhere but back in his direction. It appeared all the bravery she had had last night was gone, and she seemed almost embarrassed. He stalked his way back over to the bed, and took her in his arms, relishing her still warm body. Nuzzling her neck slightly, he felt his eyes drift close as he breathed in the faint smell of flowers that still cling to her skin. Why was he so content with this? He felt his cock twitching for release, but still he was quite happy with the current situation. Yeah, it had been a while since his last late night companion, but that didn’t explain his sudden sentimentality. He needed to back out of this before it got too dangerous. Instead, he kissed his way down Lettie’s neck to her breast, and licked her nipple gently. She let out a strangled groan, and threaded her fingers in his hair. Feeling more in his element with the physical and not the emotional, he began leaning her back.   
“Wait!” she gasped out and pushed him off of her.

Paul stared at her in disbelief. “What? Why?”

He felt a slight sense of pricked pride. What, was he not desirable anymore? Or, he thought with a sense of dread, maybe she wanted to talk about the other night or try and define their current relationship. Both were things he would rather avoid. He didn’t want to give her up, not after only one taste of her wonderful and responsive body, but he wouldn’t be brow-beated into a relationship.

“What time is it?” she asked, all full of excitement. Pushing past him to look at the clock on her dresser, she let out a small excited squeal. 

“There’s still time! Get dressed! You’re not afraid of heights are you?”

Paul shook his head no, confused. Lettie clapped her hands with happiness, and sprung off the bed, running to the bathroom. Paul got dressed as he heard her quickly brushing her teeth. Running out, she grabbed a discarded jumper, and pulled on a pair of denim pants. Sliding on sturdy shoes, she grabbed Paul’s hand, and made a beeline for her front door.

“I was er, exploring the flat when I first moved in”, she said with a reddening face. “And I found a service door. So out of curiosity, I decided, to, eh, see where it led.”

Paul just shot her a raised eyebrow in response. He knew that translated to her trespassing somewhere. He felt a stab of surprise; he wouldn’t have expected Lettie to be so exploratory. But when he thought about her personality, he felt like it was probably had a strong curiosity that would cause her to snoop a bit. She led him out of her flat door, and down the hallway near the exit stairs. Instead of going through that door, she veered to the left and he saw a service door that said “Personnel only”. She shot him another embarrassed look before looking around to make sure no one was there. Dropping his hand, she pushed hard against the door. Grabbing his hand again, she pulled him into a dimly lit hallway with bumpy, cold stone walls. He was about to ask her where they were going, but before he could, she began tentatively making her way down the hallway.

“Almost there. The ladder’s at the end.”

Sure enough, they reached a slightly rickety looking red iron wrought ladder. Letting go of him again, she proceeded to climb up without so much as a second’s pause. Paul watched her climb and then disappear through a hole at the top. He tried to see where it led, but it was too far and too poorly lit. He casted the ladder a dubious glance, then took a deep breath and started the climb, ignoring the slight shake of it. When he climbed to the top, he realized that it led to the top of the flat building. Looking around, he saw Lettie looking at him with an excited gleam in her eyes. 

“Hurry up!” she yelled.  
Paul finished hauling himself up, and followed behind her, trying to figure out why they were here. It was still a bit dark, and a breeze was stirring up. The roof was a typical one, flat and bare. As he looked for Lettie, he saw her standing much too close to the edge of the building for comfort. With a sickening dread that broke a cold sweat on his forehead, he carefully and slowly made his way over to her stopping a good distance away in case she felt his closeness was a sign to jump. Did she bring him up here to witness her suicide attempt? He knew he hadn’t known her that long, but he couldn’t reconcile such a bubbly person who had talked about her future plans with something so drastic.  
“Lettie…” he started, cautiously. He wasn’t sure what the best approach to talking someone down was. She looked at him with confusion, and then let out a sudden laugh. He felt himself growing a bit irritated. Sure, it was an amusing occasion for her, but what was he supposed to do?   
“You daft man! I’m not jumping”, she exclaimed as if reading his mind.  
Looking closer, Paul realized that there were two ledges on the roof. One was thick, and sloped slightly downward to an area of level concrete. Beyond that was another, thinner ledge that marked the edge of the building. Lettie was safely dancing along the thicker first edge. He felt his dread immediately turn to shame, and then hot irritation. He didn’t like being embarrassed, and he didn’t like being the end of a joke. He made to turn with the intent of leaving when he was stopped by her calling out.

“Paul! I brought you up here to watch the sunrise, you ninny,” she said. “Don’t leave yet.”  
Paul turned back towards her, face still hot. He walked over to where she was standing, her hair blowing in the gentle breeze. She reached out her hands to him, and grabbed him gently by his wrists pulling him towards her. Sitting down on the thick edge, she drew him down with her, and snuggled in the crook of his arm. Paul felt himself slowly relax. She made no comment on his silly assumption to which he was grateful for, but he could feel the slight shake of her shoulders as she tried to hide her laughter.  
“I didn’t see the second ledge, you know,” he explained in a grumble.   
“Of course not” she agreed with lingering traces of laughter still in her voice.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence and stared out at the city’s landscape as the sun began to rise. Paul had to admit, it was one of the most beautiful scenes he had ever seen. He had always wanted to capture a sunrise in a painting, but hadn’t been able to nail down the illusive blend of orange, red, and yellow. Or the feeling of newness that it seemed to inspire in him. As the sun’s rays touched the tips of the building, Lettie sighed in contentment. Paul glanced at her, and was taken aback by how beautiful she looked. She had her eyes closed, and had turned her face up to catch the beginning warmth of the day. The light tangled up in her hair, showing hidden gleams of red throughout its dark mass. Her café au lait skin still held red impressions from her pillow, and he could see the slight scar along her temple. He fought back the urge to press a kiss to it, as if to take away any lingering pain the memory of the incident may still bring her. Once again, he was surprised at how he felt about her so quickly. He had to remind himself he didn’t want much more out of this than something spontaneous. Especially if the band took off, he wouldn’t have the time nor the energy for a relationship. Not that Mick would just stand by and allow it to take place anyway. 

“Don’t you just love it?” she asked with her eyes still closed. “Whenever I start feeling bogged down by life, I always try and come up here to watch the sunrise. It always reminds me that I have a new day to restart myself. I wish I could find a way to always have a sunrise to look at whenever I feel down. But you can’t bake a sunrise,” she said with a chuckle.  
“I paint, you know,” Paul said, feeling a sense of kinship. She had explained perfectly the way he felt about sunrises too. He hadn’t come across anyone who could explain what it was about sunrises that drew in him in such a succinct manner.  
“Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll commission you one day, Mr. Simonon. Come on, let’s go set the kettle on. I’m getting chilly.”

They made their way back to her flat, and Paul plated up all of her baked goods as she set the kettle. Soon after, they were sipping tea and munching on cranberry almond scones. Once again, Paul was blown away by how good Lettie’s baking was. She had a natural talent, and he told her so.

“Thanks,” she said blushing. “Micky thinks I should have my own bakery, but…” she trailed, off licking butter of her fingers.  
“I’m just not sure I have what it takes”.

“I think you’d be brilliant”, he said. And much to his delight, her blush deepened even more.   
Without meaning to, Paul spent the rest of the day with Lettie. They feasted on all her tea cakes, and bread with endless pots of tea, and a few beers. They talked about their first loves (his a scabbed kneed black girl who gave him his first kiss before her family moved to the states, and an older opera singer in Italy who used to laugh at his attempts to woo her, but would let him kiss her ringed hands. Hers the teenage kitchen staff cleaner who would sneak her extra treats). They argued about which film category was better (hers: film noir, his: spaghetti westerns) before Paul silenced the argument with a kiss that led to a cease fire in exchange for a better past time. They napped, and showered together, and watched reruns on Lettie’s tube. Before they realized it, it was almost 9, and Paul needed to leave. The band was starting a new intense schedule, and since he slept at the studio, he thought it best that he be there whenever they showed up. As he put on his boots, and jacket, Paul was full of conflicting emotions. He had genuinely enjoyed his day with Lettie. On the other hand however, this wasn’t what he considered a good idea. It felt like they had fallen into each other already, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had had a relationship that wasn’t casual sex. He wasn’t sure what she wanted out of this, and if it came down to it, he didn’t care. But as she stood there with those doe eyes, and turned her full lips up for a kiss goodbye in the innocent way a child asks for a sweet, he didn’t know if he could end it with the callous nature he believed the situation called for. He tried to rationalize it by reminding himself he didn’t know what she actually wanted out of this, but part of him felt like she was an all or nothing type. 

“See you soon?” she asked as she was about to close the door.  
Paul nodded in agreement, but as he made his way down the stairs of the flat, he knew that this would have to be the first and last time he spent the night with Lettie.


End file.
